


Brothers

by Elinoic



Series: Brothers [1]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Brothers, Friendship, Gen, No Slash, Some angst, Vampires, bragi - Freeform, bus ride through Italy, touring in New Zealand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elinoic/pseuds/Elinoic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is stranded in Italy, where he meets Mitchell, an Irishman who was just travelling.  After a few hours on a bus chatting together, Anders invites Mitchell to New Zealand.  Mitchell takes him up on the offer and they find that there is a friendship and brotherhood between them.  It's not until Mitchell's ready to head back home do they find out what each other are and if it will changed their friendship or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know these characters swear frequently in their shows, but I don't, so neither do they. It's my story. :)

He was in Italy.  It should have been a wonderful trip, but it wasn’t.  It had started off well enough, but things had not turned out like they were supposed to.  Anders was there at the expense of a client, but a market crash in the United States put things in the Europe market in a tricky position and the company, who had brought him to Italy for their public relations work, was suddenly without much money and could not afford any PR services, much less J:PR.  And so Anders had found himself somewhat stranded in a country where he couldn’t speak the language. 

He was on his way back to Rome to catch the first flight he could home, but his money was low as well and what he had left was all it would take to get back home.  So, instead of flying from place to place in a private plane, or even a decent train, he had been forced to accept a ride from a bus filled with German teenagers on a tour of Italy. 

A bag of crisps flew past his head, accompanied by some shouting.  The boy in front of him turned around just in time to catch the packet.  There was another yell and suddenly Anders felt something hit the back of his head. 

“Entschuldigung, sorry,” the youth behind him yelled.

Anders reached behind him and felt for what had hit him.  Another bag of crisps.  He held it out to the boy in front of him. 

“Danken,” the boy said, taking the bag. 

Anders sighed.  He was seriously considering testing to see if Bragi would work on an entire bus of kids.  Anything to get them to sit down and shut up.  He wasn’t sure if it would even work since he spoke no German and the kids didn’t speak much English.  The bus pulled over a little while later for everyone to get out, use the restroom and stretch their legs.  Anders pulled his bag over his shoulder and got off the bus.  It was so nice to get out of there and breathe some clean air.  Where they had stopped was really a pretty place.  The Mediterranean Sea stretched out before him and the sun overhead gave the sea a brilliant green color.  He opened his bag and pulled out his camera.  He saw the ocean all the time at home, but this was different.  He never saw colors like this.

While putting his camera back into his bag, he pulled out a magazine he had picked up from the hotel back when he had been a guest.  The magazine slipped from his hand.  He muttered a few choice words as he picked it up and put it back into the bag.  Then he pulled out his phone and checked for any kind of reception.  Nope.  None here.

“This day just gets better and better,” he muttered to himself.

“You alright?” a deep voice spoke English behind him.

Anders turned around to face a tall, young man with dark curly hair and wearing sunglasses.  It was the first time someone had spoken proper English to him in two days.

“Yeah, fine,” Anders said.  “Was just hoping for some bars so I could make a call,” he held up his phone.

“Ah, wish I could help, but my phone is even less useful.  It’s dead,” the man said.  “Having fun on the bus?” he asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. 

Anders glared at him for a moment and then gave a small chuckled.  “Oh yeah.  Brilliant fun.  I just got assaulted by a bag of flying crisps.”

The man laughed.  “How did you ever end up on that bus?”

“Unhappy circumstances, I’m afraid,” Anders answered.  “What about you?  Are you a tour guide for those teens?”

“Me?  Oh, no.  I just needed a ride, they offered,” he said.

From near the bus, the leader of the teenagers called out something in German, and holding his hand up, will all fingers spread out.

“Looks like we’ve only got five minutes,” the stranger said.

“Better get to the loo then, excuse me,” Anders nodded and walked away.  Thankfully there was no line for a toilet and he was able to quickly take care of business.  He took a sip of water from the drinking fountain and started back to the bus.

The stranger was sitting in the second seat.  “Want to sit with me?”  he asked.  “No one else speaks English and the teenagers up front aren’t as rowdy as the guys in the back.”

Anders looked to where he had been sitting.  Already the teenagers were leaning over the seats, talking and laughing.  He would rather not deal with that lot again.  “Yeah, alright.”  He slid into the seat next to the tall stranger.

“I’m Mitchell, by the way,” he said.

“Anders.”

The tour bus leader was standing in front of them and speaking in German to the teens.  Anders looked to Mitchell, who just shrugged his shoulders.  He didn’t understand any more than Anders did, apparently.  Soon the bus pulled out and they were on their way again.

“Are you from Australia?” Mitchell asked.

“No.  New Zealand.”

“Oh, sorry.  I’ve only ever met one Australian and seen a few on the telly, but I don’t know if I’ve met anyone from New Zealand before.  Not familiar with your accent at all,” Mitchell said.

“It’s okay.  What about you?  Ireland?” Anders asked.

Mitchell nodded.  “You’re good.”

“I thought all people from Ireland had red hair.”

Mitchell laughed at the stereotype.  “Only the ones with Norse ancestry.  As for me, I’m from pure Celtic lineage.  We’re a darker bunch.”  Inwardly and outwardly, Mitchell grimaced to himself.

“What brings you from Ireland to Italy?” Anders asked, feeling a little more talkative than usual.  He had just spent two days without any real conversation due to his lack of knowledge in both Italian and German.

“I actually live in England these days, but I’m here cause I just needed to get away from things back home,” Mitchell answered.

“You running from the law?” Anders asked.

“No.”

“Your ex?”

Mitchell laughed.  “No.  Just from,” he sighed, “life I guess.  I needed a bit of a change.  What about you?”

Anders groaned.  “Business trip that went sour and I was left high and dry.  Got just enough money to get me home.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Anders shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t mind not being at home, but I would have preferred to be here with a little more luxury than a bus of teenagers.”

“So what kind of business do you do then?” Mitchell asked.

“Public relations,” Anders answered.  Mitchell was unfamiliar with that and so Anders spent a bit of time explaining what a PR company does.  Mitchell listened and asked intelligent questions.  “What about you?” Anders finally asked.

“Oh, I, um, work in a hospital and no, I’m not a doctor, or else I wouldn’t be on this bus either,” Mitchell smiled.

Anders snorted.  “So, then, you must be the head of the hospital then.”

“Hardly.  I clean.  Clean up blood, fluids and other unpleasant things, but I also spend a lot of time sitting with patients.  I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve gone into a patient’s room to clean something or bring fresh towels and find them crying.  Sometimes I’ll sit with them.  The little old ladies let me hold their hand.  Sometimes they’ll talk to me and tell me their troubles.  I’m a good listener.  I’ll just sit there.  A friendly presence during a tough time.”

Anders smiled.  He could easily picture this man sitting by some sick person’s bed, holding their hand while they cried about their diagnosis.  He was calm, friendly and had a huge smile, when he smiled.  Anders found himself enjoying the Irishman’s company. 

“I saw you with a camera earlier.  Do you take pictures as part of your job?” Mitchell asked.

“Naw.  It’s just a hobby of mine,” Anders said.  His family never really did approve of his artistic hobbies.

“You ever get anything published?”

“You mean with the photos?  No.  I’ve never tried.”

There was a little more silence between the two men, but there was no silence in the bus.  The teenagers broke out simultaneously in song.  Mitchell was grinning, but Anders let out a long groan.

“Oh, I can’t wait till I’m home again,” Anders rubbed his eyes in the palms of his hands.

“Got anyone at home waiting for you?” Mitchell asked.

“Yeah, Rachel, Camilla, Ginger and Molly,” Anders replied in complete seriousness.

“Wow, quite popular with the ladies are you?”

Anders grinned smugly.  “I am, but these ladies especially.  They’re my fish.”

Mitchell laughed.  “Oh, I see.  One’s named Molly?  I had a cousin named Molly.”

“Had?” Anders asked.

“Um, yeah, she died, long ago.  Childhood illness.”  It was Mitchell’s go-to answer for anytime his long dead family came up.  In fact, Molly had lived to quite an old age, but that was a long, long time ago.  She had worked in France during the Great War as a VAD.  He had seen her once, after his death and turning, hard at work, helping to ease the suffering of the soldiers, many whom had been gassed, in the makeshift tent hospital.  She had been carrying a pot of tea and cups to the poor wounded men, give them what kind words and comfort she could.  Mitchell had admired Molly for that.  Living among such horrid conditions, with so much pain and suffering, could not have been easy.  If she had ever married and had a family, she would have great-great grandchildren by now. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Anders said, looking truly sad.  “I didn’t mean to bring up a bad memory with my fish’s name.”

“No worries.  Molly’s a great name.  I like hearing it in use.  Even on a fish.”

They continued their chatting as the bus rumbled along the winding roads as it headed into Rome.  They talked about all sorts, movies, sports, places they’ve travelled to, and such.  Family never came up again and both were happy to avoid the conversation.  Anders just hated his family situation and was keen to avoid the topic of his brothers.  Mitchell knew he couldn’t explain that his family had all died nearly a century before.  Best to stay away from that topic.

Conversation certainly made the time and miles go faster.  Anders was quite surprised when the bus stopped again, reaching their destination.  Anders and Mitchell thanked the tour leader, who, in broken English, wished them well and goodbye.

The men walked away from the bus together.  There was no reason to stay together any longer, but neither really seemed ready to say good bye yet either.

“Fresh air and no singing teenagers,” Anders inhaled deeply.  “I’m hungry.  Want to get some lunch?”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Mitchell stepped back once.

“Well, it’s up to you, but I’m going to go order a pizza.  I can’t eat the entire thing and I can’t take it on the plane, so you’re welcome to come and share the other half with me,” Anders shrugged.

“I hate to see good pizza go to waste,” Mitchell said.

“Come on, then,” Anders looked around and spotted just what he was looking for.  He ordered a pizza and two beers.  They sat down at one of the iron tables on the street just outside of the pizzeria. 

It was then that Mitchell noticed something peculiar about Anders.  His scent was off and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before.  Probably because they had been crammed into a bus with a bunch of sweaty teenagers.  But there was something unique about Anders’s scent.  He had never smelt it before.  It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t the way mortal humans smelled.  His curiosity about this blond man was growing

“Ug,” Mitchell looked at the bottle of beer in his hand.  “They call this beer?  Every beer that comes out of Ireland, including my Uncle Pat’s home brew, puts this to shame.”

Anders looked at the pizza that sat between them.  It had hard boiled eggs and full tomato slices sitting, cooked on top of the pizza.  He picked up a slice and ate it.  It was weird, but not bad.  He watched with some amusement as Mitchell pulled off the tomato slices. 

Mitchell saw that Anders was watching him.  “Tomato sauce on pizza is one thing.  Tomato slices is another,” he explained without apology. 

The late summer day was pleasant.  Anders had removed his jacket long ago, but he had noticed, at the start of the trip, when they had been in higher elevations, that the first nip of fall was in the air.  But here, in Rome, in the sun, the day was perfectly pleasant.  Too bad he didn’t have the money to stay any longer.  He could have been quite happy right here.  Mitchell was still wearing a jacket and gloves on his hands.

“You cold?” Anders asked.

“Um, yeah, a bit.  I’ve got a condition.  My body temperature is always slightly low,” Mitchell said.

Anders just nodded.  “Yeah, my brother’s got a similar kind of condition.”  He froze at his words, hoping that Mitchell wouldn’t ask more questions.

“Really?” Mitchell asked, wondering if this man might have a vampire in the family.  “What does he do to keep warm, then?”

“Um, kind of the same as you.  He wears jackets most all of the time, but he’s learned to ice sculpt cause the cold doesn’t bother him much.  He’s actually pretty talented.”

Mitchell felt a little let down.  Definitely not a vampire then.  The cold bothered him all of the time.  “I hate being cold, but days like today are nice.”

“So you don’t like winter then?”

“Naw,” Mitchell pulled another slice of tomato off his pizza.  “I don’t hate winter or anything like that, but it’s not my favorite season.”

“You know, when it’s winter in England, its summer in New Zealand.  You should come out and spend your winter there,” Anders said.  Had he just invited this near stranger to visit him in New Zealand?

“Maybe I will.  I’ll have to get home and start working double shifts again to save the money to buy a ticket there,” Mitchell smiled.  It might just be worth it, though, and who would think to look for him there?

Anders reached into his pocket.  He pulled out a card.  “Here’s my card.  If you ever make it there, call me up.  I’ll take you to see some real amazing sights.”

Mitchell took the card.  ‘Anders Johnson, J:PR, Auckland.’  “Thanks,” he said.  “Well, I guess you’ve got a flight to catch soon.”

Anders nodded.  “And a long, long flight it will be.  Not really looking forward to that. But, it will be good to get home again.”

Mitchell nodded, but said nothing.  He didn’t really know what to say.  How do you end such a casual greeting that had meant more to you than all conversations he had had with anyone in the last year? 

“What about you?” Anders asked.  “What are your plans now?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mitchell said.  “I’ve got a little bit of money left.  I’ll survive until I’ve got just enough to get back home.  Kind of like you.  Then I’ll go home, work double shifts and maybe you’ll see me some future winter.”

“I hope you can make it,” Anders said.

“And if you ever find yourself in Bristol,” Mitchell smiled, “feel free to drop by and say hello.  I’m at the hospital, in the emergency, mopping up the fluids.”

Anders scrunched his nose in disgust.  “Um, yeah, thanks.”

They shook hands and Anders could feel his cold fingers.  It was a lot like shaking Ty’s hand.  He knew what afflicted his brother, the god of everything cold and dark.  So what was Mitchell’s reason for his cold body temperature, he wondered?  Well, no time to find out now.  It was time to go.

“It’s been nice meeting you,” Anders said.

“Yeah, you too,” Mitchell smiled.  They stood for a moment longer, shaking hands.

“See you around, then,” Anders nodded his head and picked up his two bags of luggage.

“Yeah, see ya,” Mitchell said and he watched as Anders walked away.  He looked back down at the business card with Anders’ business information on it.  He decided right then and there, he would go home, work hard, and when he had enough money, he would fly to New Zealand.  It was a crazy, rash, exciting idea.


	2. Mitchell arrives in New Zealand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell arrives in New Zealand.

More than a year had passed since the disastrous trip to Italy.  Anders might have forgotten about the whole trip and the Irish man he had met, had it not been for two things.  First was the financial loss that he was still trying to rebuild.  He had worried for a little while he would lose his business, but he had managed to squeak by and was slowly making money again.  The second thing was that he kept seeing Irish things everywhere.  Brochures to travel to Ireland in store windows and magazines, Irish beers at the market and bars, and of course, the St. Patrick’s Day parade that had gone right past his office last March.  Every time he saw anything that was green or resembled Ireland in any way, he thought of Mitchell.

He had a lunch appointment today with a potential client.  He really wasn’t very excited about the appointment, but if he could get their business, it would help his out a lot. 

“Dawn, if this goes well, I’ll be back by two.  If not,” he paused to put on his jacket and picked up his cell phone, “See ya later.”

Dawn huffed.  She was wearing a new pink spring dress.  He couldn’t remember her wearing it before.  Not that he paid much mind, to be perfectly honest. 

“Nice dress.  It brings out your smiling, rosy cheeks.  Too bad it’s covered in cat hair, though,” he strolled out the door.

“I don’t have a cat!” she yelled at her boss as the door closed behind him.  He was the absolutely worst person to work for, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to leave him.  She cared about the company.  She had put in way too much work to just walk away.  And Anders, for being the insensitive jerk that he was, she had seen too much of him on a personal level to deny that he needed someone strong and steady in his life.  No one else really seemed to care.

After another hour of work, she pulled out her own lunch and set it out on her desk.  A leftover half a sandwich from her stop at the deli last night for dinner and a salad.  She had found a new salad dressing that was, in her opinion, heavenly, and she poured a generous amount of it onto the green leaves.  She turned on some quiet music on her computer and sat back in her chair.  Halfway through the sandwich, the door opened and a tall man walked in.

She flushed in embarrassment at being caught with her mouth full, eating her lunch at her desk and with music playing.

The man smiled.  “Sorry,” he said, his accent thick and foreign, “I, um, don’t have an appointment and it seems I came in at a bad moment.”

She quickly swallowed her mouthful and stood.  “No, it’s all right.  Sorry you caught me like that.  Now, how can I help you?”

He didn’t look like a potential client.  Dawn thought he looked like he had just spent the last week hiking in the wilderness.  His dark hair was limp around his head and he had dark bags under his eyes.  He wore a backpack and had a duffle bag in one hand.  The other hand had one of Ander’s business cards.

“I was looking for Anders Johnson.”

“I’m afraid he’s away from the office for a bit.  Is there anything I can help you?” she asked.

“No.  I don’t guess so.  I’m just a friend, stopping by to say hello.”

“Well, I can text him a message.  Just give me your name, number and where he can reach you and I’ll let him know you were here,” Dawn said in her most professional voice.  She was surprised to see a look of disappointment in his eyes.

“My name is John Mitchell.  I don’t have a phone number right now, cause my phone battery’s dead, and I, um, well, I don’t know where I’m staying just yet.  I just arrived.  Got off the plane an hour ago.  Thought I’d stop by to say hi first.”

Dawn was always on her guard when she was alone in the office and with anyone else she might have simply taken a message and told them to try again in a couple of hours or tomorrow morning, and then hurried to get them out the door.  But there was something about the way this John Mitchell looked that surprised her.  He really seemed disappointed not to see Anders.  That was odd because Anders had no friends that she was aware of.  At least none that would stop by like this for a visit right after getting off a plane.  Was it possible that Anders had a friend?

“Where did you just arrive from?” Dawn asked.

“England,” Mitchell answered.

“That’s a long journey.  You must be exhausted.”

He nodded a bit.  “Longest flight of my life.  The worst part about it is knowing that I’ll be doing it again in a few weeks to go back home.”

Dawn nodded.  She had gone on a few vacations off the island a couple of times and knew how long the plane rides could be.

“Listen, I’ll message Anders.  Maybe he can give me an idea on how soon he’ll be back.  Why don’t you take a seat.”  Dawn picked up her phone and texted her boss.  “John Mitchell here to see you.  His phone is dead. No contact info.”  She clicked the send button and sighed.  He might reply immediately, he might not.  With Anders, one never knew.

Mitchell had slid into one of the chairs and was digging through his backpack.  He pulled out his phone and charger.  “Would you mind if I plugged this in?  Get a little power while we wait for Anders to reply?”

“No, go right ahead,” Dawn said. 

He plugged his phone into the wall and sat back down.  There was an awkward silence for a bit as they both looked at each other and tried not to look at each other.

“You can get back to your lunch,” Mitchell said.  “No need to not eat because of me.”

“I’d share with you, but I don’t have much left.”

Mitchell waved his hand.  “No worries.  I’m knackered.  I’ll just close my eyes for a bit, while we wait.  I mean, if that’s alright,” He stood up.  “No, sorry.  This is probably uncomfortable for you.  I’ll go and come back later.”

Dawn stood too.  “No, Mr. Mitchell.  You look exhausted.  Anders has a sofa just around the corner, there.  You can rest there, if you wish.  I’m never sure if Anders will get his messages right away or not.”

“Really?” he looked in the direction of Ander’s office.  He walked over and saw the layout of the office.  It was clean, modern, and neat. 

Dawn walked over to him.  “Yes, make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Mitchell yawned.  He went to the couch and slumped down on it, his long legs stretched out in front of him. 

Dawn smiled and went back to her desk.  After several moments of silence, she went back to the rest of her sandwich and salad.  It wasn’t long before she heard soft snores coming from the other room.  She was able to finish her lunch and start in on some emails and research when her phone rang.

“JPR,” she said, “how may I help you?”

“Dawnsie,” Anders said using the nickname that he had come up with for her.  “Who’s this man and what does he want?”

“His name is John Mitchell.  He says he’s a friend and from England, but he sounds Irish, maybe Scottish.  I’m not real sure.  He just got off the plane, his phone is dead, and has no hotel just yet.  Said he just wanted to stop by and say hello,” Dawn explained.

“Mitchell?” Anders asked.

“John Mitchell, yes,” Dawn was trying to keep her voice down, not knowing if the phone call had woken their visitor or not.  “What would you like me to tell him?  He’s waiting for you.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Alright.”

“Oh, and Dawnsie, better get familiar with Gordon’s famous mushy cereal.  We’ve got a new client.”

“Good work, Mr. Johnson,” Dawn said, truly happy they would have another client, even if it was the worst tasting breakfast food in all of New Zealand.  She hung up the phone and walked around to Ander’s office.  Mitchell was sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“I guess I dozed off,” he said.

“No worries. Mr. Johnson said he will be here in twenty minutes,” Dawn said.

She went back to her desk.  Mitchell excused himself and went to the restroom and came back with a wet face and looking a little more refreshed.  He sat back in the waiting seats by the door and checked his phone.  Still charging.  He and Dawn had some polite conversation about the horrors of intercontinental flights and England this time of year.

“It’s getting to be winter there,” he was explaining as the door opened and Anders walked in.

The difference between the two couldn’t have been bigger if they had planned it; Anders with his small frame, blond hair and neat suit, looking like he had just walked off an Armani runway and Mitchell, tall, dirty, plaid shirt and fingerless gloves, like he had just spent a year living in a treehouse.  But the smiles on the faces of the two men were genuine and friendly.

“Mitchell,” he clasped the tall man’s hand.  “I didn’t expect to actually see you here.”

“Well, you invited me to visit New Zealand one winter and I decided to take you up on that suggestion,” Mitchell grinned.

They disappeared from Dawn’s sight as they went around the corner, to the couches and sat down to talk.  She could hear them laughing and talking and the sounds of drinks being poured, but they weren’t loud enough for her to make out any words being spoken.  But, Anders was truly laughing.  She had only rarely heard that before and that made her feel a little sad, but when she thought about his family, she guessed she could understand why.  The only one who was ever civil to him was Ty and even then, angry words frequently passed between the two brothers.  But now, this stranger turns up out of nowhere, without Anders ever having made previous mention of him before, and suddenly, Anders is laughing.  She didn’t know who this John Mitchell was, but she was happy he was here.   

* * *

There was no doubt in Mitchell’s mind, there was something off with Anders.  His scent was so different.  Dawn smelled like a human.  She was a pretty, human woman.  Mitchell had just spent two days on airplanes filled with ordinary humans who smelled like ordinary humans and Mitchell was grateful he’d been able to feed before his trip or that plane ride might have been a million times worse.  But Anders.  He wasn’t an ordinary human and Mitchell had no idea why.

“So, it’s winter in England and you came all the way out here.”

“You said I should,” Mitchell shrugged.  “You also said you’d take me around to see the best sights.  I intend for you to make good on that promise.”

“Where are you staying?” Anders asked.

Mitchell squirmed a bit in his seat and looked over to his duffle bag.  “Well, I haven’t found a place just yet.  I’ll probably do what I usually do, find a cheap room or hostel.”  That was putting things nicely.  He had spent most of his Italy trip living on the streets and sleeping in parks with the other homeless.  He figured he’d do that here too.

“Well, Dawn can help you find one.  She’s great at finding stuff like that online.  Or, you’re welcome to crash at my place.”

“What, no.  That’s alright.  I wouldn’t want to be a bother.  And I wouldn’t want to bother Dawn either.  I’m sure I can find something suitable on my own,” Mitchell said quickly.

Anders shrugged his shoulders again.  “It’s up to you.  My place has only got one bedroom and forgive me for not being willing to share that, but I’ve got a comfortable couch, extra blankets and pillows.  Whatever you choose if fine with me.”

Mitchell smiled.  “Well, I hate to see a perfectly good couch go to waste.”

“Let’s go then.  You look like you could use a bit of rest and quite frankly, you stick.  You can take a shower,” Anders said.  He was never one to mess with flowery words when the blunt truth worked just fine, except in special Bragi-occasions, of course.

“Dawnsie, I’m off for the day.  I probably won’t be in tomorrow, either.  Do some site seeing.”

“Anders,” Dawn said, stepping in front of him, “you’ve got a nine o’clock meeting with the dog food people tomorrow.”

“Reschedule it,” he said.

“This _is_ a reschedule,” Dawn told him.  “If you wish to keep him as a client, you’ve got to meet with him tomorrow.”

“Take it, mate,” Mitchell said.  “I’m going to be so jet-lagged tomorrow that I’ll probably not be functional until lunch time.”

Anders nodded.  “Alright.  See you tomorrow Dawn.”

Mitchell unplugged his phone, stuffed it back into his bags and followed Anders out the door.  “Bye Dawn, it was nice to meet you,” he said as he walked out.

“You as well,” she called after him.

Mitchell followed Anders, who strode down the sidewalk like he owned the street.  Mitchell fumbled with his sunglasses for a moment and wondered if Anders had a car or would hail a cab.  But Anders just kept walking, so Mitchell followed.  Five minutes later, they stopped outside a two story rectangular building.  Anders took out a key and unlocked it.  Another door led them into a stylish apartment.  It was like his office, neat and modern in design, but unlike his office, it was quite messy.

“Oh, I forgot.  My cleaning lady quit.  I really need to hire another one,” Anders said nonchalantly.  “Just drop your stuff where ever.  The bathroom’s there, attached to the bedroom.  Towels and what all are there, in that closet, and, fridge is here, but there’s not much in it right now that’s edible.”

“And here are your ladies,” Mitchell moved over to peek into the fish tank.  “Which one’s Molly?”

“That one,” Anders came over and pointed at a black fish that lazily swam in front of them.  “And that’s Ginger, and there’s Rachel.  Camilla died, but Trish joined us.  Ladies, this is Mitchell.”  He opened the lid and sprinkled in some fish food.  “Did Dawn say your name is John Mitchell?”

“Yeah,” the Irishman answered.  “But I usually just go by Mitchell.”

Anders nodded, not questioning anymore.  “Well, make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” Mitchell said, feeling slightly awkward. 

Anders must have felt it too, because he suddenly spoke up.  “I’m going to run down to the store and get some food.   Anything you like?” Anders asked.

“Naw.  Whatever.  I’m not too picky.”

“Right.  See you later, then.”  Anders pocketed his phone and keys again and walked out.

Mitchell looked around the apartment.  It was sparsely furnished minimal in it decoration.  A large painting dominated one wall and upon taking a closer look at it, the initials at the bottom said ‘A.J.’  It seemed Anders could paint, too.  This was nothing like his place back home in Bristol. In Anders apartment, everything was really nice and high quality.  Back home, everything was cheap, second or third hand, and covered in semi-clean sheets to hide the ugliness of the original upholstery and holes.

This Anders Johnson fellow, whoever or whatever he was, was well off, enjoyed his comforts, and yet somehow, seemed sad.  Mitchell shook his head.  Jet-lag was setting in.  He took a quick shower and changed into the cleanest stuff he had.  He would have to find a laundromat soon.  With his hair still dripping, he sat down on the couch and picked up a magazine.  A page had been dog eared and he turned to it.  It was a picture of an Irish pub, inviting the reader to join them for pint of the best beer Ireland had to offer.  Glancing at several other magazine, he found several others had dog eared pages, all on travel ads for Ireland.  Mitchell smiled.  Seems his friend had missed him too.

Back at home, Mitchell’s friend, George, had ranted for a long time about what a ridiculous trip this was.  He had only met the man for a couple hours on a bus in Italy and now he was running off to the other side of the world to visit this friend?  George and Annie had tried to talk him out of it, but Mitchell couldn’t explain.  He had to get to New Zealand and see Anders again. 

His scent was certainly intriguing.  The apartment smelled like him.  It wasn’t unpleasant, just odd.  His mind tried hard to figure out what Anders could possibly be, but the adventures of the last few days were finally catching up with him and before long, his head slumped forward onto his chest and he fell fast asleep.


	3. Time With and Time Without

Anders roamed the aisles of the store, only halfway thinking about what he was buying.  His thoughts kept returning to Mitchell.  He was surprised to see him again and more surprised about how happy he felt at seeing Mitchell again.  They had only known each other for a couple of hours more than a year ago, but seeing him again made him happy. 

Bragi, it seemed, was restless with the Irishman around.  He kept a constant buzz in Anders’ mind that was unsettling.  Bragi didn’t seem to trust Mitchell and Anders didn’t understand why.  But then Anders _did_ trust Mitchell and he didn’t know why.  He had just let a stranger into his house and left him there.  He hoped none of his brothers or any of his ex-lovers would show up unexpectedly.  This thought quickly put him back into action.  He grabbed some frozen foods and beer and made his way home.

Mitchell was sleeping, sitting up, on the couch.  Anders chuckled.  He remembered how out of it he had been upon returning home from Italy.  Got to love jet-lag.  As quietly as he could, Anders put away the food.  He changed into something less formal.  A look on the clock said that it would be dinner time soon.  He went to the newly bought frozen foods and picked out lasagna in a box.  He put it on a tray and stuck it into the oven.  He looked at the mess on the counters and dishes in the sink.  Seems he wouldn’t be able to ignore those any longer with a guest here, so he started to throw stuff away and was just starting on the dishes with the timer rang.

Mitchell had fallen over at some point and was actually lying down and still asleep.  Anders took the food out of the oven and went to where his friend slept.  He awkwardly poked at Mitchell.

“Hey, wake up.  Dinner’s ready,” Anders said, gently poking Mitchell’s arm.

Mitchell stirred.  “Wha?”

“You’ll never get into a regular sleep pattern if you sleep anymore this evening.  Get up, have dinner and go back to bed in a couple of hours,” Anders stood back up and went to the table.  He pulled out two dish settings and set them out.  He brought over the food and a beer bottle each.  Mitchell was sitting at the table, rubbing his gloved hand over his eyes.

“Why are we eating in the middle of the night?”

“It’s not the middle of the night.  But if you want to sleep during the middle of the night, tonight, you’re going to have to wake up for a while,” Anders chuckled, cutting himself a generous slice of the pasta dish.  “You like lasagna?”

Mitchell nodded and Anders placed a slice on his plate too.  Mitchell was looking better than Anders had ever seen.  Not that he had much to go on, but the two times he had been with Mitchell, the Irishman had been doing a lot of travelling.  Now that he was showered and cleanly dressed, he looked a lot better.

Anders told him all the places they planned on going and if there was anything in particular that Mitchell wanted to do.  Anders chuckled to himself.  If his brothers saw him now, playing tour guide, cooking or heating up a nice lasagna dinner, and letting someone other than a beautiful woman stay in his home, they would be giving him such grief.  Well, he would just make sure his brothers never knew.

The following day, after his meeting, Anders took Mitchell around Auckland.  They went to a lot of the touristy places and a few places that tourist didn’t know about.  That night, Mitchell asked Anders about the painting and photographs that hung on the walls of his apartment.  Turned out, they were all work by Anders and Mitchell was impressed at his talent.  Nothing had come up in their conversations that helped Mitchell to understand anything about what Anders truly was and Anders was getting quite annoyed with the way Bragi kept buzzing on about something strange with Mitchell.

For several days this went on and Anders found that he had actually had a lot of fun.  He normally hated all the things they had been doing, but maybe it was because he hadn’t had a friend before.  Anders had a bit of a panic attack that night after he had gone to bed.  He didn’t want a friend.  Friends hurt you and it was just as easy to hurt a friend.  He didn’t want attachments, even of this nature.  That was why he always preferred to bring home a different woman every time he wanted companionship. 

Speaking of which, he was starting to feel frustrated that he had not had a moment to spend with a woman since Mitchell had arrived.  He hadn’t minded too much, because Mitchell filled that part of him that wanted companionship, but he certainly didn’t fill the sexual frustration and Anders didn’t want him too, either.  As long as Mitchell was here, crashing on his couch, Anders couldn’t bring a woman home.

He decided maybe Mitchell would like to see more of what the island had to offer and so would harness Bragi to help Mitchell get the idea to travel off and see Wellington.  He could even offer to get him the ticket to go and then return.

“I’ve got to be getting back to work.  Dawn tells me things are really piling up,” Anders said as they sat eating dinner.

“You’ve been awfully nice to take so much time off to show me around,” Mitchell said.

“You know,” Anders said, letting Bragi take over, “you want to travel around a bit more and go to Wellington.  Spend a couple of days there.”

Mitchell’s eyebrows went up.  “What was that?”

Anders sat back in surprise.  “What?”

“That thing you were just doing.  What you were saying to me.  That was weird,” Mitchell said.

“I, um,” Anders was suddenly at a loss for words.  Why hadn’t it worked?

“You alright there?” Mitchell asked.

Anders only nodded.

“Well, you’re right.  I would like to see more of the island.  I was looking at a map and hadn’t realized Wellington was on this island.  I was thinking of going there anyway.  Let you have your life back.”

“Oh, well, it’s not,” Anders paused, still confused by Bragi not working on Mitchell.  Maybe Bragi didn’t like the Irish.  “Yeah.  I’ve been pushing a lot of stuff to the back burner.”

“Sorry about that.  I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time.  Tomorrow, I’ll head out.  What’s the best way to get there?” Mitchell asked.

“Plane, train or car,” Anders said.  “I can get you a train ticket.”

“You don’t have to do that.  You’ve already done a lot for me.  I’ll get my own ticket,” Mitchell said.  Their words, while still polite, now had strain to them. 

They both went to bed a little more early than normal that night and Mitchell was ready to leave just as Anders was straggling into the kitchen for some coffee.

“You going already?” Anders asked.

“Yeah, there’s a nine o’clock train I want to catch.”

“You want a ride to the station?” Anders asked.

“No thanks.  The walk will do me some good.  Say, after my visit to Wellington, can I stop by again?  Say good bye before heading back to England?”

“Yeah, sure.  And you can stay a couple of days if you want.”

“Thanks.  Well, I’d better head off.  It’s been great fun, Anders.  I’ll see you later.”  Mitchell stepped forward and held out his hand.  Anders took it and they shook. 

“Yeah, see ya.”

* * *

Anders realized a few days later that he had made a mistake.  Really, Mitchell was only here in New Zealand for a little while; a couple of weeks.  And after he left to go back home, Anders would have been free to do whatever and invite whomever into his house, just like before.  But the friendship was only for a little while.  He felt he had found a brother in Mitchell.  A brotherhood like he should have really had and not what he actually had with his own true brothers.  The idea of being without his new brother made him sad.  Dawn had picked up on it and asked Anders if he was alright, but of course Anders was. 

He was always fine.

Mitchell was gone longer than Anders had expected he would be.  He had texted him at one point, asking if he had gone to see the Shire set yet.  Mitchell had gushed on and on one day about how much he loved the Lord of the Rings movies and Anders had suggested he go see the set.  He got a text back that night saying he had been there and it had been better than he could have ever imagined.  Anders chuckled, wishing he could have been there to see Mitchell’s reaction.  He should have gone with him to Wellington.  It would have been a fun break.

After that, he heard nothing and he didn’t want to text him anymore.  It would make him seem desperate.


	4. Who we are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Mitchell finally learn what each other is.

Nearly a month passed before Mitchell texted Anders again.  “Arriving back to Auckland today.  Can I stop by?”

Without trying to sound too eager, Anders replied that of course he was welcome to stop by and did he want to be picked up at the station.  Later there was a text: ‘Yes please.  0410.’ And so at four o’clock, Anders found himself at the train station, checking the times of the incoming trains and what platform he would arrive on.

The train was two minutes early and Anders watched the flood of humanity exiting the train.  Sometime he was so tickled by the silly humans and their silly lives.  But sometimes, deep inside himself, he envied them.  To have a life free of Norse Gods.  What would that be like?  He didn’t have time to dwell on that for long because he soon recognized a dark head on a tall, lanky man.

“Hey Mitchell!” Anders called out.

Mitchell turned and grinned.  He had let his beard grow out.  Not a bad look.  Anders thought about growing a beard once in a while, but had never done it.  Clients tended to like the clean shaven PR director.  Mitchell slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and jogged up to Anders. 

“Good to see you!” Mitchell said.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yeah.  It was great.”

They left the platform and Mitchell told him about some of the things he did and saw while in Wellington.  He had also taken time to visit some of the other cities, towns and stops in between Auckland and Wellington. 

Their way home was blocked by a local parade, so they parked and found a nearby café where they could order drinks, sit, watch and wait for the parade to pass by.

Anders pulled out his camera, seeing some great opportunities for photos.  He kept trying to get Mitchell, but he kept dodging the camera.  The lighting was perfect for the photos, but the glare of the light made it nearly impossible to see the camera’s view screen.  Anders could only hope he was getting some decent pictures.  He finally manage to catch Mitchell with his attention elsewhere and so he took a shot with his camera.  He stuffed the camera back into his pocket. 

“So, what have you thought of New Zealand?” Anders asked.

“It’s nice,” Mitchell nodded.  “And new.”

“New?”

“Yeah, compared so most of the buildings in England and Ireland, everything here is brand spanking new.  I mean, back home everything is made of stone that’s been covered in centuries of moss and every building is leaking with history.  You’d be hard pressed to find a home there that doesn’t have several generations of ghosts living there.”

Anders laughed.  “I suppose compared to places like that, cities in New Zealand are fairly recent.  So if what you said is true, are there ghosts in your home?”

Mitchell smiled fondly, “Just one.”

Anders about choked on his beer.  “What, really?”

“Her name is Annie and she’s got this thing with making tea.”

“Your ghost makes tea?”

“Sure.  Why not?” Mitchell asked.

“I didn’t think ghosts drank tea.  In fact, I wasn’t sure ghosts truly existed at all,” Anders said.

“They exists.  The supernatural exists and is all around us.  Most of the time, we just don’t know about it,” Mitchell said, carefully.  “And you’re right, she can’t drink tea.  She just likes making it.”

Anders chuckled.  The parade had ended and the streets were open again.  “You’re still wearing a coat and gloves,” Anders pointed out.

“Like I said, I’ve got a condition.”

“I thought the New Zealand sun would do you some good,” Anders said.

“My condition also means that I don’t do well in direct sunlight for very long.  I burn easily,” Mitchell replied.

“Yeah, my brother’s the same way,” Anders nodded.

When the parade was over, they made their way back to Anders car and then to his apartment.  They ordered out some dinner and while they waited, Mitchell took a shower.  Anders pulled out his camera and flipped through the pictures.  Some of the photos were decent.  Some weren’t.  With that sunlight, he hadn’t been able to tell.  He looked through the entire list, but the picture with Mitchell wasn’t there.  Odd.  He was sure he had taken one of him.  There was a picture of that spot where Mitchell should have been, watching the parade.  But he wasn’t there.   Bragi buzzed loudly in his head.  “Ask him,” Bragi whispered.

Anders put the camera away.  It was a little more than odd and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. 

When Mitchell came out, he was clean shaven and his wet hair dripped onto his shoulders.  He smiled.  “Thanks, mate.  I needed that shower.”

“Yeah, you did.  Say, you remember when we were talking about your ghost, Annie, you mentioned the supernatural was all around us and we just never knew.  You talk as if you know something.”

Mitchell stiffened.  He had really hoped to avoid all this with Anders.  Anders didn’t need to know his secrets.  No one needed that burden on them.  Plus, knowing vampires existed in the world was usually very unsettling to people.  But Mitchell also realized he had come to see Anders as a brother and brothers should support each other, right?  Maybe Anders would be understanding.  Maybe not.  It really didn’t matter.  He would be headed back to England soon and would never have to see Anders again.  He would tread these waters delicately.

“Yeah, I know about some things.  I live with not only a ghost, but a werewolf.”

Anders eye brows shot up.  “Werewolves?  They’re real?”

“Of course.  Their affliction only messes with their lives once a month for about twelve hours.  The rest of the time, you wouldn’t know they were a werewolf.  They lead normal lives,” Mitchell answered.

Anders didn’t look too freaked out.  “Are you a werewolf, too?”

Mitchell laughed.  “No.  I’m not.”

“I’m not as dumb as my brothers tend to think I am.  I mean, I can put two and two together.  You’re cold skin, your ‘condition’ as you call it, your aversion to the sun.  It’s like you’re either a troll or a vampire.”

Mitchell nodded.

“So, which one?  Troll or vampire?” Anders asked.

“Vampire.”

Anders sat down, his eyes became unfocused on Mitchell and moved to a spot on the wall.

“You alright?” Mitchell asked.

“I guess,” Anders said quietly, but then he looked at Mitchell again and he sat up straight.  “So if you know the worlds of ghosts, werewolves and vampires, what do you think of living gods?”

“Gods?”

Anders nodded.  “Sure.  In Ireland, don't you have your legends of Celtic Gods?”

“Yeah, but they’re just legends, aren’t they?  I mean, I’ve been around for a long, long time and I’ve never met a god before,” Mitchell said.

“You just think you’ve never met a god,” Anders said.  “Because I can tell you that you have.”

Mitchell understood what Anders was saying.  “You’re a god?”

“I am the living embodiment of a god, yes.”

“Celtic?” Mitchell asked.

“Norse,” Anders said.

Now it was Mitchell’s turn to sit down.  In all his long years, he was usually the one to tell people he was a supernatural and then dealt with their various reactions.  No one had ever told him they were a supernatural, at least one that he didn’t already know about.  He could sense other vampires and werewolves instantly, but that would explain why Anders scent was so off.

“I did wonder,” Mitchell said.  “So are you a specific god?”

“Bragi, god of Poetry,” Anders said with a smile.

“Poetry?  There’s a god for poetry?”

“There is,” Anders said defensively.  “There is even one for the Celts.  His name is Llew.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You’re Irish.  How could you not know?” Anders asked.

“Catholic.  I grew up in a very Catholic home.  Pagan gods were frowned upon.”

“Well, whether you like it or not.  We’re real.”

Mitchell looked to his friend.  “Oh, I didn’t mean to say you’re not.  It’s just my Catholic upbringing.  But, over my long life, I’ve learned that a lot of things exist that the church would say does not.  I’m a living or a not-living example of just that.” Mitchell chuckled.  “So you’re a god and I’m a vampire.  No wonder we turned out to be friends. Two people who understand what it’s like to be not ordinary.  We understood each other before knowing what the other was.”

“Yeah,” Anders sat back and looked at the vampire.  He didn’t act like the vampires in the movies, that’s for sure.  He thought vampires lived on human blood.  Surely Mitchell must too, but he had never seen that.  He had eaten pizza with this man and had always felt completely at ease with him, never threatened.  “Can I ask you some questions?  Only, I’ve never met a vampire before.”

Mitchell smiled and leaned back.  “Sure.  Ask away.”

“I thought vampires couldn’t go out in the sun at all; that you would burn and turn to ash.”

“It would have to be a lot of sun for a long time for that to happen.  The sun makes me uncomfortable, but as long as I stay somewhat covered up and protect my eyes, I’m not going to turn to ash,” Mitchell answered.  He was surprised.  Usually people wanted to know right away if he was going to drink their blood.

“Are you actually living or did you die?”

“It’s a strange combination of all of the above.  I did die. My heart doesn’t beat, I don’t really need to breathe, but I’m alive, have emotions, can feel pain, I need to sleep, eat food and drink water same as anyone else, but not as much or as often.”

“But you always eat meals with me,” Anders pointed out.

“I also eat because I like food.  Pizza’s a personal favorite.”

Anders nodded. 

“Come on,” Mitchell smiled.  “Ask it.  I know you want to.  I promise I won’t get angry or offended.”

Anders gave him a smirk.  “Fine.  The blood, then.  Do you really drink blood?”

“I do.”

“Every day?  How often do you need it to survive?” Anders asked.

“I can go for weeks, even months without drinking blood, but it’s better for me when I have a kind of regular feeding schedule.  Every three to four weeks is best.”

Anders was quite shocked.  First, he was glad to know that Mitchell didn’t need to drink blood every day, but that still that meant that he was drinking someone’s blood every couple of weeks.  Oh, gosh, how many people had died for him?  Mitchell talked about drinking blood like it was nothing.  But he guessed it was probably nothing too him, anyway.  He wondered if he should feel scared, but he couldn't find it in himself to be scared of Mitchell. 

“Well, that’s good, I guess.  The movies sure have you wrong, don’t they?” Anders smiled; trying to pretend like none of this bothered him.

Mitchell laughed.  “Do they ever.  I can’t turn myself into a bat and I hate long black capes with high collars.”

“And high heeled boots?” Anders asked with a sly grin.

Mitchell laughed again, his grin wide.  “Especially high heeled boots. OK, you know all about me.  Now, tell me about being a god.  As a god, do you have super powers?  Are you omnipotent?” Mitchell asked.

“Well, Bragi is the god of poetry, so he’s the god of words.  With the power of my words, I can bend mortals to do my will,” Anders answered.

“So you can tell anyone to do anything?”

“Pretty much. But I’m never make people do something they don’t want to do and I don’t use my powers to cheat anyone or hurt anyone.  Well, not without good reason.  And it doesn’t work on everyone.  It doesn’t work on other gods and goddesses.  And it seems it doesn’t work on vampires either.”

“You tried?” Mitchell asked.

“Once,” Anders shrugged.

“That night you told me I should go to Wellington, right?”

Anders blushed and looked down at his beer in his hand.  “Right.”

“I wondered what you were up to,” Mitchell chuckled.  “So, you wanted to be rid of me?”

“No, I just thought you’d enjoy seeing something different, and I really did have work piling up on me.  I couldn’t take off more time to show you around and I felt bad making you stay here on your own.”  It was partially true.  Mitchell didn’t need to know all of Anders motives.

Mitchell just looked at him for a while.  He could have an intense look about him and when he had first come to stay, Anders had thought that Mitchell was upset or angry, until he figured out that was just Mitchell.  But right now, there was a little more of the intense look than he had seen in the past few weeks.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Mitchell said.  He fought down a yawn.

“Wait,” Anders sat up and fetched his camera.  “I took a picture of you today, but when I looked, there was nothing there.”  He turned on the camera and flipped through the pictures until he reached the last one.  It was the parade and Mitchell should have been there.

“Ah, yes, that’s another thing.  I can’t be caught on camera, I don’t have a reflection and I don’t have a shadow.  Most of the time, people don’t notice, thank goodness for that.”

They talked for a long while about their conditions, both eager to learn about the other’s.  Finally the subject of how much longer Mitchell would be staying came up.

“I can leave any time.  Tomorrow or in a couple of days, but I don’t think I should stay too much longer.  I really should get back home.  It’s been great though.  I’ve loved spending some of my winter here in your summer.”

“I’m glad you came.  You’re welcome back anytime,” Anders said with a sad smile.  He would actually miss this man, his brother who was not his brother.

“I just have one favor to ask of you,” Mitchell’s smile was gone.  “And don’t freak out or anything, but before I can put myself on an airplane, I need to feed.  I haven’t fed any since arriving here in New Zealand.  That’s a long time for me and I think it will be safer for everyone if I’m recently fed before climbing into a pressurized tube of humans filled with blood for twenty hours as we fly over half of the world.”

Anders eyes were wide now.  “Um, yeah, I guess so.”

“So, do you know of any goth clubs?  Sometimes I can find willing hosts there,” Mitchell’s voice was quiet.

“I, I don’t know of any,” Anders stuttered.  He didn’t know of anything he could do to help Mitchell, but he surely didn’t want the vampire on an airplane filled with innocent people. 

"I suppose I could look online and see if there is anything close by," Mitchell said with a small sigh.

Anders mind was in a whirl.  He didn’t want Mitchell to have to go out, kill, and drink from anyone at all.  He supposed he could offer to be host to Mitchell.  It would mean his life, but was that really worth living anyway?  Bragi could find himself another vessel and his brothers would probably be relieved if Anders wasn’t around anymore.  He wasn’t essential in Axl’s hunt for the Frigg.  “If it would help, you can feed from me.  That way you don’t have to go out to find some stranger.”

“Anders,” Mitchell whispered.  “You don’t have too.  If I can’t find someone, I’ll just, try and sleep through the flight.”

“No, you don’t want to get on a plane when you’re hungry.   I mean, unless there’s some kind of rule that it has to be a virgin girl under the age of twenty or something.”

Mitchell laughed.  “No, there’s no rule like that.  It can be anyone.  Male, female, young and old.  I’ve drunk from them all.  I’ve been a vampire for a very long time now.”

“How long?” Anders asked.

“More than ninety years.  I’ll be 119 on my next birthday.”

“No way!  You don’t look it.”

“Yeah, well, I got turned when I was twenty four.  My body just froze in time after that.  I’ll never age.”

“Sounds like there’s some perks to being a vampire,” Anders said.

“Yeah, but there’s more problems than perks.  I do not wish this fate on anyone, but sometimes, I’ve been forced to turn others into creatures like me.”  Mitchell’s face was dark with his secrets.  Anders really didn’t want to know. 

“If I let you feed from me, will it turn me into one of you?” Anders asked.

“Only if I let that happen, but I wouldn’t.  You’ve got your own troubles.  You don’t need to go adding a vampire to them.”

“I wonder what Bragi would do if I were to become a vampire?” Anders mused.

“Let’s never find out,” Mitchell said quickly.  There was finality to his voice.

“Well, my offer is open,” Anders said quietly.  “If you need too, you can from me.  That way you can get safely home.”

“You sure you’re willing to do this?” Mitchell asked.

Anders swallowed nervously.  “Yeah, I will.”

“Can we go to your room?  The windows aren’t quite so open to the public.” Mitchell asked.

Anders stood and nodded.  Of course, don’t want the police or anyone else to see what was about to take place.  Anders wondered if perhaps he should write down some instructions for Dawn and maybe Ty, but it was too late now.  They would figure out what to do once they found him. 

Mitchell sat on the bed. “Here, sit across from me and face me.”

Anders did and soon their knees were touching.  It was weird and intimate and he wasn’t at all comfortable about what was about to happen.  He hoped it wouldn’t take too long or be too bloody.  This was a good shirt. 

Mitchell leaned in closer and smelled him.  “I’d been trying to figure out your scent all this time because it was so different.  I had never smelled a god before, that’s all.  But now I’ll know if I meet any more.”

Anders suddenly worried for his brothers.  Yeah, he hated them, but he didn’t want them to die either.

“Will it hurt?” Anders whispered in fear.

“Only for a second.  Most people feel some pleasure.  Just relax Anders, you’ll feel a pinch and then the pain will be over.  You ready?”

Anders swallowed hard and looked into the dark eyes of his friend once more.  They were warm and kind, and then, they were black and his teeth now bore fangs and before Anders could panic, Mitchell’s teeth were sinking into his neck.  It did hurt, just for a moment, but then, just like Mitchell had said, the pain was gone and replaced with pleasure.  It was like getting kissed in the most passionate way and his body warmed all over.  For a moment he worried about dying like this, but soon he was so warm and filled with such pleasure, he didn’t care if he died or not.  He relaxed into Mitchell’s grip and let his blood be taken.

When next he opened his eyes, he was laying on his bed.  Mitchell was standing next to him, holding a glass of orange juice in his hands.

“Anders, can you wake up?  You need some juice.” 

Anders felt a strong arm slip under his shoulders and lift him up.  The cup of juice was pressed to his lips and he drank.  Then he was being laid back down.

“How are you feeling?” Mitchell asked.  “I’m afraid I got a little carried away.  Your blood, mixed with the essence of your Norse god, was amazing.  The most delicious thing I’ve ever had.  But don’t worry, I didn’t overdo it too much.  You’ll just be tired for a while until your body can replenish itself.”

Anders didn’t quite understand everything that was being said.  His mind felt fuzzy and his body still felt warm.  He wondered how long he had left.  “How long will it take?” he asked in his haze.

“To replenish your blood supply?  A couple of hours.  By morning, it will be normal again,” Mitchell said.

“But how much longer after that?” Anders asked.  He seriously hoped this wouldn’t be a long, drawn out, painful process.  He just expected to die, not linger on like this.

“How much longer for what?”

“Till I die?” Anders asked.

Mitchell was surprised and suddenly very sad.  “You think you’re going to die because I drank your blood?”

“It’s what happens in the movies,” Anders said.

“This isn’t the movies Anders,” Mitchell said seriously.  “Listen to me now.  You’re not going to die.  Nor will you turn into a vampire.  I told you, I don’t want that fate for you.”

“But I thought,” Anders started.

“Wait,” Mitchell interrupted.  “You thought that by allowing me to feed from you, that you would die?  But you still offered and went through with it?  Do you feel your life is worth so little?”

“Yes, well, no.  I didn’t want to die,” Anders said, sitting up.  The juice had already done some good and he felt a little more energy.  “But I didn’t want you to go on that plane and kill everyone there because I wouldn’t help you.”

“You’ve told me over and over how selfish you are and you’ve told me your brothers think you selfish, but you were willing to lay down your life so everyone on the plane would be safe.  That’s about the most unselfish thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“I may be selfish, but I’m not without feelings and believe it or not, I actually care about people.”  Anders frowned.  “I thought if you didn’t feed, you’d get on that plane, kill everyone and then you would spend the rest of your un-dead life in jail and I couldn't,” but he couldn’t finish.  He was selfish.  Very much so and he had no trouble admitting to that.  But Mitchell was his mate.  His brother.  Another unnatural being, like him.  He had never would have laid out his life for anyone before, but for Mitchell, he had been willing.

“You have a heart of gold that you don’t often let people see, don’t you?”

Anders shook his head. “I don’t have a heart of gold.  Most would say I don’t have much of a heart at all.”

“But I know that’s not true,” Mitchell smiled.  “I’ll never forget this as long as I live.  You, willing to die for me.  That’s worth more than gold.”

Anders flopped back onto the pillows, feeling dizzy all of the sudden.

“More orange juice,” Mitchell’s arm was back under his shoulders, “and then you’re going to bed.”

Anders swallowed some more juice.  “Already in bed,” Anders smiled with his cheeky grin.  He rolled to his side and closed his eyes.  The lights in the room were turned off and his door closed.  “Well, that was unexpected,” he said to himself.  “Never thought I would be fed upon by a vampire when I woke up this morning.”

* * *

Mitchell stayed for two more days to make sure Anders recovered both in body and mind.  Anders had been willing to die for Mitchell’s sake.  Things like that didn’t happen without leaving some kind of emotional scaring behind.

Anders took Mitchell, Dawn and Ty out to dinner on Mitchell’s final night.  Anders had warned him about his brother being a god, but also that Dawn knew absolutely nothing and to please not bring it up.  Mitchell was happy to comply, as long as he being a vampire never came up.  Avoiding these topics of conversation was not a problem for either of them.

While at dinner, for the first time in his life, Anders felt what it might truly be like to have a loving family.  He liked Ty, when they weren’t dealing with god stuff, and Dawn was a brick in his life.  Then there was his new brother.  The brother who had been better to him than his other brothers, with the exception of Ty, had been.  They laughed and ate and Anders found himself wishing the night would never end.

But it did and the next morning, he drove Mitchell out to the airport.

“You’ll be alright?” Anders asked.

“Thanks to you,” Mitchell smiled.  “What about you?  Will you be alright?”  He had learned quite a bit about Anders and the family situation during dinner last night and he was amazed that Anders wasn’t worse off and more screwed up than he already was.

“Of course.  I’m always alright,” Anders shrugged.  But Mitchell had learned what those shrugs meant.  Anders was trying to push away at the truth and the pain.

“Remember, if you’re ever in England, you’ve got to stop by.  I want you to meet my favorite ghost and werewolf.”

Anders smiled.  “And you are always welcome back here.”

“Thanks. Keep in touch,” Mitchell said.

Anders held out his hand to shake, but Mitchell grabbed him in a brotherly bear hug.

“You too,” Anders said. 

They both shared moist eyes, but their public goodbyes would be nothing beyond that.  Privately, they each knew some tears would be shed.  Too bad England and New Zealand were on the other side of the world from each other, but true brothers couldn’t be separated by distance.  Not really.  Whether they would ever see each other again was uncertain, but they were glad to have had this time and forever thankful for that smelly bus filled with teenagers in Italy, where it had all began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this. Anders and Mitchell were destined to be friends. How can they not? I wanted a story where they aren't lovers or anything along that line, but a true brother to each other, having an understanding of the other that no one else seems to possess. I had come up with another chapter where Anders goes to Bristol to see Mitchell, but I couldn't find an ending to work that wasn't completely cheesy. :) But in my mind, they end up living close by and remaining friends to the end of Anders days.
> 
> Of course, I own nothing related to The Almighty Johnsons and Being Human except for my imagination. Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> The character Molly, comes from the audio Doctor Who story, 'Dark Eyes'. The 8th Doctor meets Molly O'Sullivan, a VAD during World War I, while she is working in France. She and Mitchell would have been about the same age, so why not make them cousins?


End file.
